


We Stop When I Win

by allthingsniceandsweet



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:20:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthingsniceandsweet/pseuds/allthingsniceandsweet
Summary: This isn't the usual teacher-student romance that has been written to death. This is thriller, suspense, drama with romance at its center.





	1. Prelude

The brass knob, polished to perfection, protruded from the hefty door like a face with an evil grin hidden underneath, daring anyone to lay their hand on it, let alone turn it. Therese paused just as her fingers were about to close around the shiny knob. She wasn't sure why the hesitation. She'd done this more than a dozen times before. She'd come to this same location at the same time for the past ten weeks. And she'd turned this same door knob more times than all the students in the entire English Literature department put together. Each time she'd felt invincible when thrusting open this same oakwood door. Nothing could puncture her bubble of confidence. Yet, today, after all the elaborate preparation, a speck of trepidation had somehow or other lodged itself in one corner of Therese's mind, tipping the scale of her faith.

"Professor, did you want to see me?" asked Therese, her sight pinned firmly on the woman who was bent at her desk sorting out stacks of flashcards and a heap of paperwork.

The Professor flicked her head up, startled by Therese's barging into the learning facility. She turned at an angle, swept aside the fringe on her forehead that her red hairclip had failed to secure. She dropped the cards onto the grey metal surface of the desk and folded her arms squarely across her chest. Her light grey eyes with dark spokes like little daggers, froze as she examined Therese. Her stare, quiet, chilling, solemn and aggressive, screamed right into Therese's ears. This was the kind of moment that Therese loathed the most. The kind of moment where all your actions were put on hold because you simply couldn't decipher your opponent's next move. This was the equivalent of the game of chess. And Therese had never been defeated at this game. But now studying her from six feet away was the Professor. Someone so fickle in demeanor, so unpredictable in action, someone who could read Therese so thoroughly as though Therese's whole life were a manuscript written by the Professor herself. Yet, most ironic of all was how much she had enjoyed the nakedness that permeated every cell of her body each time she was under the scrutiny of the Professor. Knots began to form across her shoulders as awkward anxiety crawled under her skin. She had to shift her gaze somewhere else. So she looked intently at the phone cradled in her hand while her head raced with a smorgasbord of questions and answers. 

"What do you think you're doing?" asked the Professor. Therese immediately recognized the repressed tone of voice that the Professor had often used to confront her students. Students who were guilty of tardiness. Students who had defied the course outline. Little did Therese expect that she too would be subjected to such a treatment. 

"I don't understand...," Therese said as she attempted to quell her shaky hands. 

"What were you thinking when you sent those pictures?" The Professor reiterated her point.

It all made sense now. The Professor had made an angry move that wasn't easy to counter. Very timidly, Therese replied, "I just wanted...I thought you'd like that and...I thought maybe it'd make you happy." 

"I could lose my job, Therese. I could lose my teaching license." The calm before a mighty storm had taken shape. It was just a matter of time now. "No goddamn educational institution in this country will ever hire me again." And there it was. The other shoe had dropped, at last. 

"But I'm graduating in four months," Therese boldly said as something within her stirred and brewed. 

"Until then, you're a student in this university. And I'm still your professor."

"Just say it. Just say it to my face that you want to end this. And...and I will walk away and won't ever bother you again." Therese flung her phone against the metal edge of the desk. And just as her words snapped the tension in the room into irreparable pieces, her phone screen shattered like a sharp reprimand of an adult to a child. Her heart was leaping out of her chest, pounding like a boom box. Therese knew it was impossible to reverse the atmosphere. Her arms which earlier dangled on her sides were now tensed up. Her body jangled with anger that she couldn't entirely release. 

The Professor watched on as though she were waiting for more fury to spew out from Therese's core. Therese knew this was it. This was the ending she had known from the very beginning and the ending she had stubbornly denied. And after this, she would go back to her old self and stop loving someone so much. She was almost ready to turn on her heel when she heard "Come closer." Vague and devoid of emotions. 

"Come closer." The Professor said again. She stretched one arm out like a peace offering and turned her hand over for Therese to take. And like a spell, Therese's limbs began to relax, and unknowingly, she was propelled forward. Forward toward the woman who held all the cards.

The Professor caught Therese's wrist in her hand and brought her mouth close to Therese's cheek. Her soft breath was scorching all the sensitive nerves in Therese's ear. She, then whispered, "Did you really think I'd keep my hands to myself after seeing those pictures?" She pressed her body on Therese and backed her to the whiteboard at the other end of the classroom. She sank her teeth onto Therese's earlobe, nibbled the soft flesh and pulled away. And she whispered again, "Did you really think I'd let you go after walking around campus all day seeing nothing but images after images of you?" She lifted Therese's short pleated skirt and the familiar journey started afresh. Afresh and all over again. Each time longer than the last. Each time farther than the last. Each time deeper than the last.

Therese smoothed away the creases on her white cotton shirt and straightened the cuffs of her long sleeves. She tucked the shirt neatly into her skirt and checked herself one last time before heading out. She turned her head to look over at the Professor. "Same time on Thursday, Professor?" asked Therese in a sheepish murmur. 

The Professor tidied herself up and swept her hair back behind her ears, holding the loose curls in place with the red clip. She nodded somewhat dispassionately, in response to Therese's query. 

But just as Therese's fingers were about to grab hold of the door knob, the Professor called out, "Therese, don't call me Professor. Call me Carol."

Outside the door, Therese gazed at the door knob once again. It was still smooth and luminous but this time it wore a genuine smile, welcoming her to call around any time she desired. Therese returned the smile and glided off along the corridor.


	2. At the Park

_It_ _all started with two sets of feet, miles apart, oceans apart, treading the winding streets of life, crippled by their aimless pursuits. Each_ _found the other, some say, through randomness, and some, by pure serendipity. They closed the distance and now, they were ordinary feet walking alongside each other, leaving a trail of extraordinary memories behind them. And occasionally,_ _one pair of feet was slightly ahead but they always slowed down for the other to catch up._

In the late afternoon sun, amidst the thin and surging shadows, Central Park was awoken from a long slumber. Little children on colorful scooters and blinking lights; joggers and skaters keeping up with their routine, peddlers handing out hotdogs and ice cream cones from makeshift carts and stands. Every pebble, every bridleway, every body of water and every swirl of air sprung to life. Even the century old oak trees found a way to flex their creaky arms and lower their branches, forming a gentle arch and shelter for those passing beneath.

She glanced over furtively at her companion. She had thought this would be easy. She had thought it would all come back to her again. To them again. But this wasn't as simple as the proverbial walk in the park. And since hurrying through the entrance of the park, they had been strolling in absolute silence. Silence was the only language that kept their feet in motion. And now silence had flourished into hot flushes speeding at a dizzying rate through Therese's body, shooting in all directions across her face and ascended all the way to the crown of her head. She couldn't breathe without making an effort to breathe. Too much had taken place in the last six years. Too much to be pressed into one afternoon of conversation. As much as she wanted this speechless walk to go on forever and the silence to keep swelling, a certain restlessness wormed its way into Therese's hands. In particular, her right hand, now merely inches away from Carol's left hand. Her heart and her head were at odds with each other. She wanted so very desperately to thread her fingers through Carol's but in the end she brought her fingers back together into a loose fist. To no surprise at all, her head had triumphed again. It was just too soon. It was too intimate a contact after the clumsy hug they exchanged at the JFK arrivals hall.

"Why did you give up?" Carol's voice jolted Therese back to the present, back along the tree-lined path, right into the cacophony of activities around her.

But this wasn't the question Therese was looking forward to. She closed her fingers into a tight fist and said, "I wasn't good enough. I've never thought of heading that way."

"You were one of my best, I must say...of all the classes I taught at Columbia,"   
Carol said, her pace started to dwindle as her breathing turned jagged. "You were different." She turned her face toward Therese and paused. "It was as though...you were flung out of space." A half smile teased her lips before she flicked her face away.

Therese swallowed a stubborn lump in her throat as the heat returned to her face, this time with a vengeance. "I lost focus after you...," said Therese, tailing off, lowering her eyes to the gravel path. Her cheeks were as hot as a volcano waiting to erupt. And her words were stranded uncomfortably mid-sentence, begging for a closure.

"How are things in the ER?" Carol promptly asked, clearly wanting to deviate from their line of thoughts.

"It's all right. Busy. It's always busy." Therese replied like a disinterested teenager being interrogated by her parents.

Carol looked up and winced, and Therese was certain she caught a flash of distress between Carol's eyebrows. The grimace on Carol's face was both puzzling and heartbreaking. Was it disapproval for Therese's failure in claiming her talent? Was it sympathy for her inability to follow her passion? Was it simply a sign of indifference? Or was it something else altogether?

"Carol, you okay?" Therese grabbed Carol by the arm just as Carol's head began to sway, and her upper body off-kilter.

"Yes...just a bit dizzy...the traveling and the jet lag." Carol pressed her eyes shut, her voice trembled with weakened countenance.

"Here," Therese ushered her to a nearby bench and sat her down. She hung on to Carol's left arm as she scooted over to sit beside her. She blinked away the haziness in her eyes a few times and looked to her right. She wondered how long Carol would stay like this under the hundred-year old oak tree, how long Carol would rest her weary shoulders against the wooden bench, how long before she decided to take flight again. 


	3. The Dream and the Reunion

Therese awoke to the sound of her eardrums popping. They were popping so rapidly like she were in an elevator descending the Empire State Building at an unimaginable speed, battling the air pressure every step of the way. Except that when she forced her eyes open, it was not an elevator she was in. It was an aircraft. And the plane did everything it was capable of doing at thirty six thousand feet above sea level. It surged and dipped and lifted and dipped again, repeating the cycle to its heart's content.

There was an elderly woman across the aisle who was bent all the way down, her arms working frantically to remove something from the bottom of her seat. From several seats behind, an agitated child was wailing his lungs out. There were the stinging sounds of roaring and clattering of unknown objects. But Therese didn't think it was anything serious, anything life threatening. They were cruising along smoothly when she decided to take a nap earlier. It probably was just an area of turbulence the plane was going through and Therese knew for a fact that aircrafts were built and equipped to withstand such external elements. But her simple logic failed her this time because the moment these words blasted through the cabin, all hell broke loose. "Put on your mask. Put on your mask." The words repeated themselves over and over. Then, something appeared before her, something dangling from the overhead compartment. It was at this point the severity of the situation sank in and she gripped both armrests and watched her knuckles poke through her skin. Her heart began its usual adrenaline pump. It was pushing against her ribs so hard that it finally freed itself from her chest. Her body plunged and plunged and plunged. Her heart had abandoned her. Her heart disappeared somewhere far above as she kept dropping. How far down, she had no clue. She was in limbo, close to the other side if there were an other side. And out of nowhere, a large hand landed over her hand, struggling to grasp her fingers, struggling hopelessly. It never made it. It slipped away and Therese lost sight of it.

"Richard!" Therese cried out into the dark, unable to take in any air as though someone had deliberately pinched her nose with a clothes peg. A cruel knot perched in the back of her head. She thrashed around grabbing hold of everything she could, of anything or anyone within her reach. But there was nothing around her. Nothing apart from a loud recognizable sound that splintered into little pins, squeezing through the tunnel of her ears. She sprung to an upright position, her fingers clutching the soft linens beside her thighs and the heels of her feet dug firmly into the quilted surface of the mattress. And there it was, in the periphery of her vision. The unmistakable LED flash of her phone lilting to the resonant vocals of music artist, Katy Perry.

It was just a horrible dream. It was another one of those dreams. And it was the third time this month. Every year for the last five years, this would be the month that such a dream ripened, like fruits and vegetables in season. Each time more vivid and more real. The sequence of events projected so clearly like filmstrips on a screen and she was coiled around an episode of sleep paralysis, completely aware of her surroundings, incapable of moving any of her limbs.

Her phone stopped ringing. It was pitch dark again. Then, a sharp beep came on. She shifted and reached for the phone.

_Can't sleep. Are you awake?_

* * *

 

Carol paced the room from the corner where her luggage was stowed, to the sliding glass doors that opened to the terrace with an unrivaled view of the Ramble and Lake. She paced back and forth in her one hundred-square meter Park Avenue suite, covering every walkable strip of the oak flooring, with her arms wrapped unyieldingly around her as the sultry Manhattan air seeped into the chamber. Her thoughts were flying all over the place. The flotsam and jetsam of life that she couldn't gather properly and put back into place. She threaded her fingers through her hair and scratched the side of her face. She knitted her eyebrows together as she glanced over at the digital clock on the writing desk. It was selfish of her to ask Therese to drop by at this time of the night. But she had been overcome by sleeplessness. Sleeplessness that sprung from the unrelenting thoughts of the one person she had so recklessly hurt.

The buzzer chimed and Carol darted across the hall. "Yes, I'm expecting her. Thank you," she answered briefly.

She tapped her face with her fingertips, swept the loose curls of her hair back and checked her reflection in the hallway mirror. The years had generally been kind to her, but forty was forty. She paused to wonder if Therese would mind that this was the way she looked at two o'clock in the morning. She wondered if Therese still saw her the same way she did when she was her professor.

A gentle knock came to the door. Carol's hand flew to the sleek handle but abruptly resisted the contact. She drew in a long full breath before pressing down the handle and pulling the door open.

"Therese. Thank you for coming over." She stepped aside, gesturing her visitor to enter. She swore she could still sense a whiff of the old Therese as she slid past. Fresh soap and shampoo. She sighed quietly and guided the door closed. Her body sank back against the hard surface as she brought her hands behind her hips. She observed Therese who was now standing in the middle of the hallway taking in her surroundings. Therese's face was slightly angled as the Victorian wall lamp cast wonderful shadows and lights on her delicate features. Carol wanted to dash over and circle her arms around Therese's smaller form. She wanted to feel Therese's pulsing warmth course through her own body and soul. She wanted to tell Therese how sorry she was. She wanted to tell Therese she had never forgotten about her. She wanted Therese to be hers again. But she couldn't. Her hands remained trapped between her and the door. Her throat clenched, blocking the flow of words. Instead, she asked, "Would you like something to drink?"

Therese shook her head without turning toward Carol. "No, I'm fine," she answered flatly.

"Well then...have a seat," Carol said leading Therese to the Victorian sofa in front of the sliding doors.

Carol plopped herself down on the leather armchair opposite the sofa. She kept her eyes fixed on Therese's flushed face. There was a certain air of maturity floating about her, a certain kind of confidence confined within the young woman's green eyes. She was no longer the shy and nervous university student Carol once knew.

"Why're you here, Carol? Why're you really here?" Therese asked, nudging Carol out of her thoughts.

"I told you...I told you I had appointments," Carol replied matter-of-factly.

"You could've just come and left," Therese said, her lips pursed into a straight line. "I wouldn't have known." She hesitated and went on. "And I would've buried our past in the past." Her voice trembled and fell so heartbreakingly low that Carol wanted to place her fingers on Therese's lips to silence her.

"Therese, please-"

"You came back and expect things to stay the same." Therese's lower lip stuck out as the front of her pale blue jacket rose and fell incoherently.

"No...I don't expect you to be the person I knew six years ago. I know things are different."

Therese's mouth curved downward, an intense spark shot out of her eyes. "What do you want? What do you want from me? Reunion sex? Is that it?" Therese rose from her seat and clumsily unzipped her jacket.

Carol sucked in her stomach as incredulity punched her in the ribs. She arrested Therese's wrist as one shoulder of the jacket slipped off, revealing bare skin which in a different instance would have been wildly welcomed. She circled one arm around Therese's thin body and pressed her to her chest. She felt the angry twisting and squirming within her arms and tightened her embrace. She held Therese tightly, so very tightly, until she was sure the resistance had subsided. And at that moment, she didn't need Therese to belong to her again. She only needed Therese to be still.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Uncertainties

"Therese, wait! Your phone..." Carol's low and raspy voice echoed down the hallway,

Therese dipped her hand into her jeans pocket and turned around. Carol stood uneasily in the doorway of her apartment, fumbling for the loose tie of her crimson plaid robe, trying to cover herself up. She gave up when she saw Therese padding lightly back toward her. She held out the phone and slipped it into Therese's hand. 

Therese's thumb rubbed against the cracked screen that appeared like a complicated web of problems. Over the years she had owned several phones. A few with shattered screen. It was mostly out of frustration or anger. Richard had got her this one the day she graduated from Columbia and she'd been using it since. The phone had run its course but she was reluctant to part with it. It was one of the last things Richard had given her. It was also a gift that Richard couldn't afford but he had stopped her when she suggested to have it returned to the store in Times Square. He had always made sure that Therese had everything she needed in life. It was as though he was compensating for something. Perhaps something that he was incapable of giving. Something that Therese rightfully deserved. 

She let her thumb rake over the rough surface before raising her eyes to meet Carol's. Light gray that had turned silver in color with spokes of midnight blue under the soft glow of the hallway lamp. She had never seen such a combination before. Perhaps Carol was the one who was flung out of space right into Therese's world. The day she had barged into Therese's lecture hall. The day she had cast her light gray eyes upon Therese. And the day the corners of her mouth rose when Therese felt her own mouth stretch into a smile. All that had changed Therese's mundane little world. All that had taught Therese that there was more to life than just Richard. But strangely enough, it was Richard who had led her to Carol. It was Richard who had driven her to campus, walked her to class and wished her luck outside the Havemeyer Hall. It was Richard who had told her not to worry too much and that the professor was an amicable woman whom she would get along with just fine. 

"And you probably need this too," said Carol, proffering an umbrella with a wooden crook handle, her mouth giving slight twitches as if she were suppressing a violent emotion.

She was not the same Carol. Something in her had changed. Something in her had broken. Therese brought her hands up to cup Carol's cheeks. They were hollow making her cheekbones poke out more prominently. Her fingers traced the outline of Carol's lower eyelids. The years had added lines that had branched out into finer lines and wrinkles here and there. She dropped the tips of her fingers to Carol's mouth. The twitching stopped. But Carol's lips had lost their youthful moisture and become thinner. So painfully thin and frail. 

She brought her eyes back up to Carol's. They said four minutes was all it took to fall in love with someone all over again. But the truth was, she never fell out of love with Carol. She had hung on to every speck of memory they had shared no matter how frivolous each might be, refusing to let anything slip through her grasps. Every night, she'd clench her eyelids shut so she could run those images through her head. She was afraid that if she did not do that, memories would slowly turn into silhouettes, blurred into weak sketches and eventually fade out to black like the end of a movie, and she'd lose Carol forever. But every now and then, the memories would go into remission like the cancerous cells she had seen in her patients, dormant but not dead. Each time the images returned, they reemerged with a greater passion, a larger intensity, and every time more convincingly. They were meant to barrel into each other's worlds no matter how fleeting and imperfect.

She didn't take the umbrella thrusted in front of her. Instead she slid her hand behind Carol's head and drew her closer. She pressed her lips on Carol's cheek and said, "Good night, Carol."


	5. Deadly Jealousy

"Half a dozen of these, please," said Carol as the round-faced jovial man picked the required red roses out of a silver metal bucket. Half a dozen was the perfect number. Perfect because it was a declaration of "I'm yours" and Carol was determined to profess her affection and give herself completely to Therese this time. No more hesitation. No more fear. And no more hiding.

"Some of those to go with the roses, ma'am?" Ed, the florist pointed at a bunch of preserved acacias strewn on the counter beside the flower shelves. He grinned and waited quietly for Carol to make up her mind. Acacias. Secret love. She chuckled softly at how effortlessly the language of flowers came to her these days. She had just spent an entire weekend with Charlotte de Latour's _Le_ _Langage_ ___des_ _Fleurs_. It was a mother's day present from little Nerinda many years ago, right before all the ugly events began. For a very long time, she had not been able to bring herself anywhere near the book. Not with all the court proceedings and custody battle. It was Abby who had finally torn down all her fear, removed the darkness and made her crawl out of her hideaway. So, acacias. Secret love. No. Absolutely not. She and Therese were each others' secret love back in Columbia. A secret affair that nobody should ever find out. But now, nothing was going to stop her from hollering to the world that her dear Therese was her one unmistakable love.

"Or these?" Ed asked as he touched a container filled with red oak leaves. Oak leaves. A symbol of strength. Yes, she wanted Therese to know she was no longer the weak Carol who had left her six years ago and ran away from responsibilities the moment she was faced with hardship. She was not the Carol who did not have the courage to speak her mind when Therese came over to her apartment last week. She was now brave, strong and she just wanted Therese to know she belonged to her.

"The oak leaves will do."

* * *

  
"May I help you with that?" Carol turned abruptly toward the man with very obvious boyish good looks, in an equally good looking crisp tailored suit.

"Yes, thank you," said Carol, handing over a bulky Whole Foods' shopping bag to the man, as she strutted through the doorway of the inpatient visitor entrance. A couple of nurses paused what they were doing and gave her a polite nod. Everyone was nice and so well-mannered in New York today. Even the conversation she had earlier with the taxi driver was somewhat normal. It was as though she had an invisible assistant who was there to pave the way and strike out all the rude and mean inhabitants of this city.

"I'm Dr. McElroy, by the way," the man introduced himself, keeping his charming smile fixed on Carol.

"Oh." Carol nodded briefly.

"Pretty flowers. Visiting someone?"

"Yes...yes, visiting," Carol replied, hinting disinterest. "I'll wait here. Thank you again." She cradled the roses in one hand and gestured for the man to leave the bag on the floor next to the reception counter.

"Whoever you're visiting is one lucky person," said Dr. McElroy with a tinge of disappointment he retreated to the hallway at the other end of the room.   


* * *

  
Her eyes darted left and right as she moved anxiously along the wide corridor. This was the hospital wing that housed the administration and doctors' offices. Therese must have performed extraordinarily well to be accepted to practice in a place like this. Of course she must have. She was smart, diligent and meticulous. Her round expressive eyes were always attentive. The unfaltering look she had always projected when Carol stood behind the rostrum, giving lectures. The unfaltering look that had crumbled Carol's denial and indifference. And now...now she was giving her unfaltering attention to someone else. Some man. Man in a good looking tailored suit. Dr. Pretty Boy. Of course, the charmer he was.

Therese who was still in her blue scrubs was standing with her back toward one of the offices that had its door left ajar. She was listening respectfully to the animated speech by the doctor. Occasionally she gave a light nod and a quick smile. And then all too soon, she let out a gasp and her hands flew to her face to cover her mouth. It was a surprise gasp. A pleasant happy gasp. Carol took a deep breath that filled every part of her lungs before she exhaled again. Her fingers tightened around the wrapping paper that bound the roses together. Therese's cheeks were flushed with excitement. And of course Dr. Pretty Boy chose that particular moment to place his hand on Therese's face as though by doing so he was helping to cool her down. Carol continued clutching the flowers in her hand as she carried on observing. Therese wrapped one arm around the doctor and they hugged for one, two and three seconds before he stepped away and blew her a playful farewell kiss.

Carol opened her mouth slightly and relaxed her jaw muscles. She was going to march to Therese, flowers in one hand and picnic food on one arm when a young nurse in a uniform two sizes too small strolled up to Therese. She greeted Therese with a smile that showed too many teeth and too much gum. Therese's mouth moved, seemingly making small talks. The nurse brought her hands to either side of her waist, accentuating her buxom chest and eagerly flaunting herself at Therese. Then, out of nowhere, she started squealing like a malfunctioned printer that could not be restrained. She pulled Therese's face to her and planted an inappropriate number of kisses on Therese's cheek. Her lips were hitting Therese's cheek like a frantic woodpecker.

And that was the final straw for Carol. She stomped over in her high heels, prepared to ward off the succession of evil and temptation that just would not leave Therese alone. She was glad she came well equipped. There was a baguette in the picnic bag. Her shoes, although not high enough had sharp pointy heels that would do the work. She was fuming and her heart was thumping as she made the last few steps toward Therese.

"Carol!" Therese's eyes looked rounder and darker. Her lips were parted and a frown etched across her face.


	6. The Kiss that Moved the Skies of New York

Therese shifted the glass bottle that held the bouquet of roses several times until she was contented with its placement on her work desk. She had been quiet since they entered her office. Everything in her office appeared quiet, lurking and ready to ambush anyone that came too near. It was as if she had her bodyguards in the forms of a charcoal black swivel armchair, a leather bound notepad with tattered edges, and a thin laptop computer sitting squarely in the center of her desk. Against the whitewashed wall below the bay window was a row of storage cabinets for medical records and papers. A display of photographs lined the top of these cabinets. Most were of Therese as a child, teenager, early adulthood, in chronological order. The last picture, at the farthest end, was of Therese standing behind a man seated on a park bench. Her thin arms were over his shoulders around his muscular neck. He was clean shaven, serious and looked a few years older than Therese. This was the only picture that Therese's smile reached her eyes.

Carol pulled out the visitor chair from under the desk and guided herself to sit opposite Therese. She stared at her, and at the three remaining stalks of roses stuck in the bottle. Well, perhaps three was an even more perfect number. She brought her hand up and pushed the fringe of her hair aside.

"I'm sorry," said Carol, her gaze pinned firmly on Therese.

Therese stopped fumbling with the flowers and raised her eyes. "You should be," she said.

"I don't know...I just got so...," said Carol, blinking rapidly before looking away. Her fingers fidgeted over her lips as she tried to recall the main purpose she was here. Then she looked hard at Therese again. "Is Dr. McElroy looking for something beyond friendship with you?"

"Dannie?" Therese asked, her left eye squinted slightly.

"Oh, of course you're on first name basis." Carol felt her jaws clench involuntarily.

"Dannie's a dear friend. We started at this hospital together. And he's crazy in love with his girlfriend who has agreed to move in with him..." Therese lifted her left arm and looked at her watch. "...about thirty minutes ago."

"Oh..." Carol found herself unable to think of a proper congratulatory response to such happy news. Her mind quickly shot off to the next candidate. "And the nurse with those..." She used both hands to mime out the physical attributes of a busty woman.

"Louise. She's the woman Dannie's in love with and I just agreed to take over the lease of her apartment so she wouldn't lose her security deposit." The late afternoon sun had cast more and more light on Therese's face as Carol forged along with her queries.

"I see." Carol raised her hand to the side of her face and rubbed her nose. "Well, I think...I've overreacted."

"Yes you have and I like you more for that," said Therese softly, her mouth quivered shyly as her cheeks slowly turned pink.

Carol's heart fluttered and skipped joyfully beneath her chest. It was smiling and laughing and it was ecstatic. She found her own lips curling up into a smile as she gazed fondly at Therese, knowing that hiding comfortably within those delicate features, she could still sense the shy and timid girl she first laid eyes on.

"So can I take you out for dinner? I mean the picnic is now...it doesn't look presentable," said Carol, looking down at the brown paper bag that was stained with condiments of all kinds and gravy from the roast chicken.

"Yes," Therese replied with enthusiasm and her mouth stretched into a broad genuine smile, resembling the one in the picture at the end of the storage cabinet.

"Before that, um, can I, um, may I kiss you?" Carol slowly lifted herself out of the chair and inched around the desk, moving languidly closer to Therese.

"Yes. Yes you may."

Outside the window, witnessing the two lovers were the last rays of light and the skies of New York that had receded to hues of amber, pink and silver. It was as if someone had cast their eyes downward, sighed with envy when they saw the lovers engaged in a slow passionate kiss.

_When you kiss me heaven sighs, and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose._


	7. Dinner or Not

She checked her reflection one last time before the elevator doors slid open on the sixth floor. She had spent a good part of the day staring idly at her meager wardrobe. With the long hours at the hospital and with no one special in her life, there was really no need for elaborate or sexually appealing clothes. She had thought about making a quick trip to Macy's but changed her mind because with the weekend crowd and traffic, she wouldn't have made it back in time to get ready for the evening. And it was an evening that mattered a great deal to her. An evening that she would make Carol blissfully happy, secure and wanted. So she had pushed the wardrobe doors closed and heaved a duffel bag covered in dust from under her bed. A voice within had assured her that this was the right choice. This was what Carol would want.

As she approached suite 623, she couldn't help thinking of that afternoon outside the lecture hall. She remembered the sense of foreboding. She remembered how hostile the door knob had seemed. And she remembered all too clearly, the guilt that made her stomach flip with disgust. But today, as she brought her hand up to the sleek birchwood door, she felt free. Because this time around, it was different. This was not an assignment. This was not a plot with specific instructions. And the woman in question was not her professor anymore. The woman was ... her Carol.

* * *

  
"I'm not quite ready yet," said Carol, still clad in her plaid robe with her back against the closed door. "I'd better call to change the reservation to..." She eyed Therese again and again until the collar of her robe could be seen rising and falling. "You look...," She strode across the room barefooted and maneuvered Therese to the writing desk. She swept off all the items on the surface and lifted Therese onto the desk.

"Therese...," said Carol in a whisper that reached every corner of Therese's body. She looked into Carol's eyes and felt herself being swallowed inch by inch.

Carol's lips glided along Therese's mouth. Her hands repeatedly squeezed and released the flesh on Therese's back, covered in a white schoolgirl shirt. Then she slid her hands to the front and worked expertly on the buttons until the shirt was all open. And like a reflex, Therese found herself pressing her chest against Carol as she wrapped her arms tightly around her.

Carol kissed her with so much tenderness along the jawline until her burning lips and breath lingered on Therese's ear. Very softly she asked,   
"What do you do when you're alone?"

"I...I touch myself," Therese answered, breathing through her mouth.

"Would you show me?" Carol ran the tip of her tongue on Therese's earlobe.

"Yes...but-"

"You need encouragement?" Carol paused her ministrations and stepped slightly back, her eyes never leaving Therese's. She stood right in front of Therese and began undoing the sash around her robe, her gaze kept firmly on Therese. She tugged at the sash so achingly slowly that Therese was ready to hop off the desk to help her. But instead Therese swallowed and let her hand creep down to her lap. She hooked her fingers under the lacy edge of her short pleated skirt and spread her legs open. And right at that moment, she noticed Carol's hand halted just above her waistline, her eyes cast downward, and her line of sight froze between Therese's parted thighs.

"Carol...come back to me," said Therese, as she brought Carol's gaze back up to her eyes.

Carol closed the distance and swiftly slipped her hand under Therese's skirt. And when Carol's fingers curled around the silky fabric beneath her skirt, Therese lost all bearing, letting Carol pull the skimpy fabric all the way down. She rested her hand on Carol's shoulder and lifted one leg for her panties to be removed. Her breath hitched in her throat when Carol's fingers crept back and skimmed between her thighs. She gasped loudly the moment Carol's fingers slipped inside her.

"Ssh...it's all right...it's me...I'm here," Carol murmured into her ear. "Do you...do you remember the words?"

"Yes...yes...I do. Please...please make me your whore again. Please...," Therese said, her voice quivered with plea and pleasure.

Carol groaned into Therese's ear as her fingers worked maddeningly inside and her thumb skillfully outside. Therese writhed and trembled and squirmed. Her breathing grew thicker and heavier. Her hips jerked with a series of excitement that was out of her control. And this time around, she let it all go. She let it all go because this time around, she was truly herself. She was just Therese who had opened up to her Carol. 


End file.
